


Free me from this cloud of blood

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Series: We are anathema [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, M/M, not a fluffy fic, not a fluffy ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4255578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the work about the Feanorians and the 7 Deadly Sins.<br/>Curufin and Envy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free me from this cloud of blood

**Author's Note:**

> nsfw, slightly dubcon. A bit of breath-play.
> 
> English isn't my first language, please forgive the grammar and spelling mistakes.

"I suppose you think yourself above us, Ingoldo. Wrapped in your golden silk and shining attires, this despicable smile on your lips, you can't help looking down at us with all the stolen glory of your lineage." 

The two of them were standing in the middle of the room, Curufin's grey eyes fixed on the sparkling jewel around Finrod's neck. This beautiful, precious necklace decorating this no less beautiful neck. The too familiar tickles of need starting to burn in the pit of his stomach, the fëanorian fought against them, his jaw clenching as he imagined himself tearing the necklace off and ripping everything from his cousin. Everything he had, starting with this treasure around his neck and this handsome smile on his lips.

"I really don't see what you're talking about Curufin." The king replied with a gentle smile, genuinely trying to understand the bitterness that was falling from his cousin's lips. "We never stole anything, these robes and jewels I wear belong to me, they were made for me, and concerning my smile... Well, I suppose it can't please everybody, no matter how hard I try."  
"Keep your sweet words for your mortals." The Fëanorians hissed, a disgusted wince on his face, his voice cold and stern, just like his father's during the last years of his life. "You won't fool me like this."  
"Fool you?" Finrod chuckled, confusion and surprise clear in his eyes. "Listen Curvo, I don't know where this is coming from, but I've never wanted to foo--"  
"Shut up." Curufin cut, his voice sharp as steel. "Do you really think I didn't notice the way you parade in front of me, arrogance gushing from your smile and your words?"  
"Speaking of arrogance, dear cousin, maybe you should look at yourself before accusing me."  
The Fëanorian didn't wait any longer, frustration devoring him from inside. With a few quick moves he stepped forwards and grabbed his cousin's robe by the collar, pouring all his strength in his arms as he pushed Felagund against the closest wall. Everything Felagund said, everything he did was like burning blades in his gutes, each look, each touch another drop of acid over his skin.

"And what are you going to do now, Curufinwë?" Asked Finrod between his gasps, Curufin's strong grip chocking him more than he had expected. "Hurt me? Kill me? Do not forget that you are in my kingdom and that I graciously welcomed you and your brother to stay amongst my subjects. You have no power here."  
"Do you really think you have any power on me, Ingoldo?" He would make him shut up, he would show him, he would have the respect he deserves as a son of Fëanor and make this pitiful king regret his boldness. He would take everything from him and forsake him, leave naked and shameful, in the cold dark pit of his own misery.  
Still holding his cousin tightly, Curufin moved closer, so close their noses were almost touching. But Finrod didn't seem to weaken, his gaze fille with a gentle determination "As long as you'll be dwelling in Nargothrond, I'll be your king."

This was too much. Finrod was no king, not in Curufin's eyes. He was an usurper, a beautiful prince who had never proved himself worthy of any praise. A gorgeous decadence. Oh yes he was gorgeous, everything that touched Felagund was gorgeous, graceful, bright and precious. It was unbearable. "Fuck you."   
"You wish." 

The honeyed music of Finrod's voice echoed painfully in Curufin's head, and the smile that was dancing on his lips sent a poisonous jolt of arousal to his guts. How he hated that, this guitly desire, this aching longing for someone he despised so much. "The only thing I wish Ingoldo, is to you see beg me for mercy."  
Despite the terrible grip around his neck, Felagund managed to chuckle. "You have no mercy."  
"Indeed." Giving in to his impulse – for a change – Curufin moved his hands to Finrod's shoulders and quite easily, he forced his cousin to kneel before him. He had thought Felagund would struggle, protest, pull away, but instead, the Arafinwean smirked and let himself be manipulated by his cousin.  
Shrugging off the confusion which was slowly invading his mind, Curufin kept one hand on Felagund's shoulder, the other firmly cupping his chin and forcing him to look up at his face. How beatiful was his smile, pure and terribly moving despite the sparks of lust in his bright eyes, and how badly Curufin wanted to tear this smile off his cousin's face, to wipe off this calm confidence from his eyes. "What would your dear subjects say if they could see you like this? Kneeling like a hungry bitch for me. What do they see in you that makes them love their king so much?"  
"What do you see in me that makes you desire me so much?"

Curufin didn't reply but the words were swirling violently through his mind.  _It's not you Ingoldo that I desire. It's everything you possess. Your kingdom, your treasures, your subjects and this enthralling, devasting grace. I need it, I crave it. And I'll do everything in my power to take them from you._  "Are you complaining about it? Does this desire bother you so much?" It was too late to deny it anyway, the meaningful bulge between his thighs revealing this painful truth.  
Chuckling again – how Curufin hated that sound – Finrod reached out to gently clasp his fingers around his cousin's wrist, and moved his head slowly, carefully, so that he could kiss and lick the tip of the fingers which were still wrapped around his chin. At the sight of it, at the wet, warm feeling of Felagund's tongue and lips on fingertips, Curufin shivered, using all his will to keep a stoic and straight face. Yet, the sharp coldness of his gaze was already melting with the flames of desire, and when Felagund's free hand slid slowly along his thigh, he couldn't help but gasp at the devoring feelings, the flames of his arousal licking every inch of his skin.

Oh no, he would not let Felagund overtake him like this, he wouldn't let him win this round with his teasing, tantalizing touch. Curufin was stronger than him, he would control him just like he controlled himself. He would not be the weak one, the one who got tangled in the web weaved by his cousin's charming smile. "Curvo..."  
"Shut up, I said." Letting go of his cousin's chin, Curufin took hold of a few golden locks, his fist closing around them and holding them tightly as he started to free himself from his robe with his other hand. Much to his surprise, Felagund didn't struggle, and this soft, amused smile was still dancing on his lips, as if he knew, as if he had always known. As if he was waiting for this. And this... this did nothing but increased Curufin's frustration. He would take him. The Fëanorian would take his mouth, his body, his sanity, he would drive him made and leave him panting on the ground, he would make him beg for relief, he would keep for himself all that Finrod had to give, all the things he treasured and cherished.

To soothe this terrible ache, to get rid of the awful poison that was running though his veins, there was no other way.

Taking himself in hand, his cock already half erected, arousal gripping him each time Finrod smiled, each time he spoke and looked at him, Curufin thrust into his cousin's mouth, and Finrod gasped at the sudden intrusion. Yet, the golden king seemed to gladly accept the violent move, his lips closing around Curufin's cock as his hand continued to slide up his thigh, fingers wrapping around the base of his cousin's length. But Curufin's hand was already brushing Finrod's fingers away, forbidding him to touch him a he thrust deeper into his mouth. "My rules." He groaned, taking Finrod's hand with his own. With a quick movement, he brought his cousin's arm behind his head, burying it into the golden strands and pinning it there. Finrod didn't protest, his tongue sliding enthusiastically along Curufin's cock, his lips curled up and his eyes shining despite the violent thrusts of his cousin. And as pleasure rolled over Curufin, as his eyes shut down and his head fell backwards, his body shivering with the distress of an overwehlming delight, the only thing the Fëaonrian could think of was this dark, deep hole of agony in which he was falling. In which he had been falling for too long.

Pulling away with a sudden movement, his hands tangled with the golden locks, Curufin knelt in front of his cousin. Finrod reached out, his head moving forwards with the foolish hope to claim his lips, but Curufin was faster, and quickly flipped him around, kicking his thighs apart as he removed Finrod's robe.  
Silence surrounded the two Noldor as the Fëanorian stared at the sight in front of him: Felagund's shinning skin, his golden hair cascading over his bare shoulders and back, the necklace sparkling around his neck and the reflections of the gems spiralling in his mind, leaving nothing but lust and envy and greed.

It didn't take long before Curufin opened his cousin, his fingers, wet with saliva and pre-cum, working on Finrod's entrance with all the skills and exprerience of the craftsman. Many times the king moaned, and these moans were like a music in Curufin's ears. A sweet, enchanting melody filled with unspoken promises, with the dark vow of absolution, of freedom.  Curufin was ready, one hand on Finrod strong hip, the other around his neck and fingers toying with the necklace, itscoldness contrasting with Felagund's skin, with the heat that exuded from him and invaded the Fëanorian's senses.

With one hand against the wall in front of him, Felagund arched his back, anticipating his cousin's next move with an obvious impatience, his own cock throbbing between his legs. There was no room for hesitation, no need to wait any longer. What the Fëanorian wanted was laying bare, open and ready in front of him, and with one single, violent thust, he buried himself deep into his cousin, fingernails digging into the soft skin of his hip as his cock burned against the tight, hot flesh around it.  
With a loud growl, Curufin started to move, paying no attention to the hungry moans of his cousin, his own need exposed in front of him, gushing from his lips as he let out groans filled with something darker than pleasure. He was taking the king, ripping him, filling him and Finrod was nothing anymore, barely a puppet in his hands. He would tear his flesh, he would tear everything from him, each new thrust cutting like a knife, each new stroke another way to control the king, to make him his.

To Curufin, it was a fight. A challenge and he knew he would win. Pulling on the necklace, he heard Finrod gasp, and Curufin smiled as he saw him chock with the strength of his grip. And when Finrod struggled, begging silently for air, the Fëanorian couldn't help but laugh through his own gasps. It was too tempting to leave him like this, to let this pitiful king struggle to death as he took him, as he took everything from him. Yet, he let go, before his own madness forced him to go any further. He let go but his fingers lingered on the jewel, exploring it as his cock filled Finrod up.  
He would win it all.  
Through the mist which was filling his mind, this dark mist of lust and anger, Curufin could hear his name falling shamelessly from his cousin's lips, from the king's lips. He could feel his own nails drawing blood into the king's skin, he could smell the scent of extasy, this insane agony which was threatening to overtake them both. He would not give in, his own climax would not be his fall. Oh yes he was winning, he was making him beg, he was making him cry and wheep and writhe, and he would make him fall. The fall of Finrod was, he tought, the only way to save himself from this aching, frighteing madness. The degradation of Finrod would crown him with the might of his own value. And his sins, his own sins would be rewarded. Like the absolute proofs of his insanity, they would be glorified as the only shield against the everlasting darkness.

He felt Finrod's arm move, and as Curufin opened his eyes, he saw his cousin stroking himself, fighting for relief, craving the extasy that would make him fall. Thusting faster and harder, his senses blurred and consufed by the strength of this poisonous, bestial embrace, Curufin allowed the wave of sensations to roll over him, ruining everything in its way: his sanity, his self-control, his will, and he fucked Finrod as if his own life was depending on it. As if it was the last battle, the last fight, as if the world was collapsing around them and there was nothing else to cling on. He fucked him to the edge of madness, ripping his flesh with his own flesh, his cock being nothing but a weapon aiming at the king's heart.

_You will die for me and cry for me and I'll let you lay bare in the dirt of my mind, in the ashes of my sanity, your blood painting my cock and your heart warm in my hand because you are mine. Everything you possess his mine and soon you'll see it, you'll understand it and you'll wheep in your misery, you'll kneel for me and begged for me to forgive you. You have ruined me Ingoldo, you ruined me with your smile, with your poisonous touch and your charming voice. I came here and you ruined me as soon as I stepped into your kingdom, this grotesque display you made for me day after day to drive me mad.... You'll pay for it. I will ruin you. I'll take everything from you, I'll rip that gace from you, I'll tear away your beauty and your purity. I'll step on you and bring you down, leave you breathless and hurt and miserable with nothing but your tears to wash away the guilt and the mark of your sins._

Curufin came violently, his cock deep inside Felagund, his heart beating painfully in his chest and a loud, deep groan rolling out from the back of his throat as he spilled himself into his cousin, hot seed dripping like a burning poison between Finrod's legs, painting his hole and his thighs as Cururfin fucked him through his own orgasm.  
It's only when he came back to reality that Curufn realized Finrod had came too, probably before him, probably has hard as he did, if not harder. When the Fëanorian pulled way, Finrod layed down against the cold marble of the floor, his body sweating and trembling, his legs still spread apart and his golden strands stuck to his skin. Catching his breath, Curufin sat down, dizziness preventing him from moving, from talking, the madness of his thoughts pinning him down. After a short while, the king turned around to lay on his back, his eyes finding their way to his cousin's, and the ghost of smile on his lips. "Oh, Curvo... so much strength, and beauty and passion within you,.. how sad it is to see how you waste them day after day."  
The Fëanorian raised his head, his grey, cold eyes moving to Finrod's face. "What are you talking about?"  
"I'm talking about your countless efforts to bring me down." Felagund replied with a gentle smile as he sat and picked up his robe. "It can be amusing, but I wish you could see how useless it is."

A warthful ball of pain seemed to explode in Curufin's guts, Felagund's very words setting his mind on fire. The king stood up, bottoning his robe, and as he headed to the door, he stopped beside Curufin who was grinding his teeth, eyes wide open on darkness of his mind, this black hole which would definitely swallow him, leaving nothing behind but his rotten bones.  
Finrod's fingers brushed softly over his shoulder and the light in his eyes was like the tone in his voice; sweet and comforting. "I'm afraid you will never understand, cousin. And the way you torture yourself pains me more than you can imagine. I'm not chasing you nor your bother away, you're free to stay in Nargothrond as long as you wish, but if the simple sight of me hurts you so much, you should probably leave the kingdom."  
"I am not hurt." Curufin stated angrily, swallowing back his rage but bitterness dripping from his lips as he shrugged Finrod's hand away. "You don't have the power to hurt me Ingoldo."

A long, compassionate sigh fell from Felagund's lips, and after a last gaze filled with what seemed to be tenderness, he walked to the door and closed it behind him, leaving Curufin bare, cold and miserable on the floor, with nothing but this threatening dark abyss in front of him. His doom. His fall.  
 


End file.
